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As it is the middle of summer and most of us have a bit more free time, I have a few interesting suggestions that you might like to read. Each was recommended to me by friends at Haverford House which is another project sponsored by Haverford’s Center for Peace and Global Citizenship (the same that helped me design this internship). Basically, six recent Haverford graduates are selected to live together in Philadelphia and are partnered with non-profit organizations devoted to various social causes where they work four days a week. On the fifth day, they design their own project to relate their work to Haverford and the greater community. If you get the chance, you should read their blog, which is both captivating and illuminating. (blogs.haverford.edu/haverfordhouse/)

Knowing that I am passionate about raw milk and its rejuvenative properties, Joe Anderson first suggested this article from Harper’s Magazine (www.harpers.org/archive/2008/04/0081992). It tells the story of a Canadian Farmer who sold raw milk illegally to eager consumers, got caught, and fought back in court hoping to end the raw milk ban. It does a great job of addressing the various arguments for and against the unpasteurized product and like many of Harper’s articles, is a fun read.

The next two suggestions came from Mary Welsh, a close friend who will be working on the Witnesses for Hunger project next year. Interested in the juxtaposition of the United States’ cracked agricultural system and its effect on urban nutrition, she will be designing a curriculum of readings meant to empower single mothers in “food insecure” households, essentially homes where hunger is an everyday reality.

Mary’s first suggestion, “Animal, Vegetable, Miracle” by Barbara Kingsolver, Steven Hopp, and Camille Kingsolver, is the true story of a family that decided to live for an entire year consuming food produced solely within a one hour driving radius. The book recounts both the joys and difficulties of living locally and is hard to put down. In addition to the main narrative, Steven Hopp (Kingsolver’s husband) adds short essays on the problems of the American food system, and Camille Kingsolver (their daughter) provides recipes and short stories. Overall, it is an enjoyable summer read because it introduces the reader to some of America’s issues while maintaining interest with a great stroy.

Mary’s second suggestion is a New York Times article that examines how the bulk of European farm subsidies have been devoted to rural developement instead of going to the farmer’s themselves. (www.nytimes.com/2009/07/17/business/global/17farms.html?_r=1&ref=business) The article, like many of Alain Blancart’s insights on French subsidies, underscores how the subsidy systems in the United States and Europe have grown to the point that they no longer accomplish their original goal of helping the farmers but instead, aid larger, industrial firms.

Whether or not you have the time to take a look at the readings, I strongly suggest that you visit the Haverford House blog. All six individuals are working on fascinating projects and going out of their way to let us read (and see with photos) what they are doing.

Otherwise, life continues to go well here at the Moulin Ruel. More to come later this week on the progress in the garden and on the chevrarie.

As yesterday’s post was a bit vague concerning what we have done since I arrived at the Moulin Ruel, here is a quick update on life Chez Blancart.

Trying to take advantage of the storms that we had on Friday, Christine, Patricia, Martin (two Czech WWOOFers), and I attacked the garden with avengence Saturday morning. The soil was supple with the previous days innondations, so we started off by weeding each neat line. Invasive herbs gave way beneath our relentless efforts, and before long, the dark earth revealed itself between each plant. After, we harvested the remaining potatoes, and in their place, we planted more leeks, black radishes, and carrots. Thus, in the span of a morning and an afternoon, we saw the incredible transformation of a slightly disheveled garden into a tidy, vegetable producing machine. For me, highlights included learning how to turn the earth without loosing precious topsoil and how to plant a leek deep enough that it will grow straight and true.

Later in the day, Martin and left the garden to work with Alain on the goat house (called a “chevrarie” in French). The principal project was the construction of a small side door, large enough to admit a goat but small enough to deter a horse. Using four hundred year old beams salvaged from the farm house and an ancient boring technique in the place of metal screws, we erected the door without a single problem. Admittedly, we had the help of a chainsaw, but you cannot begrudge us at least one modern (and incredibly fun) toy.

Today, life has proceeded more slowly. Alain left at five am for his weekly visit to local flea markets in search of bargains and time to himself. Much later after breakfast, Christine and I set off to milk the goat. Knowing that my last two weeks will be spent on a goat cheese producing farm, I decided it was my time to learn the skill and gave it a shot. Before long, I succeeded, seeing long white streams of frothy milk shooting out from under my clenching fingers. I was pretty proud, to say the least.

Though I am not sure what the afternoon will hold, I am sure it will be a joy. Life really is amazing here on this small, French farm where relationships, good food, and happy animals are valued over modern pleasures like television and fresh fruit in February.

Before I get into the primary story of this post, you should know that my transition back into the home of Christine and Alain Blancart was a complete success. After two different bus rides, several long waits, and a good amount of time to myself, I arrived yesterday to what felt like a real homecoming. Within minutes of my arrival, we were laughing like old friends, recounting stories just two weeks old, and planning all the adventures we will have in the next two weeks. Needless to say, all is well.

Before we start thinking about the Moulin Ruel, however, we have to address my departure from the Petit Ane Bleu. As you could probably tell from the tone of my last blog post, I spent a fair amount of time in the last two weeks frustrated by the farm’s environment, the constant flow of hiking customers, and the lack of progress I felt I was making. In the midst of all the work that had to be done, I often concluded that my hosts were oblivious or exploitative and did not fully grasp the exchange behind the WWOOF program. Since then, the planting of a tree and a long bus ride have drastically changed my perspective.

Unbeknownst to me, the tradition at the Petit Ane Bleu is that each WWOOFer plants a tree to commemorate their contribution to the farm. As the second to last day was concluding, Denis guided me to his collection of potted trees, encouraged me to pick one , and began thinking about where it could be planted. My choice, an unnamed tree that is supposed to grow tall and provide lots of shade, was rooted in my desire to leave a truly lasting and useful sign of my time on the farm. The next day, Denis showed me to a spot just behind his home where my tree will one day provide enough shade to keep the house cool under the hot, Ardèche sun. For an hour, I dug a profound hole, surrounded it with rocks, planted the tree, and covered its base with dried thorns (meant to dissuade the digging dogs…). In the end, the well-protected tree was a sight to make any landscaper proud and left me with mixed emotions about the following day’s departure.

Having said goodbye, I began thinking about the nature of the tree and how it represents something much larger than the shade it will one day provide. While I often concluded that the lack of guidance I received from Denis and Hind was rooted in a lack of care for my project or the spirit of exchange, the planting of my own tree made me realize how very much they appreciated my contribution to their farm. Sitting there alone on the bus, I began to see that the tree, with its majesty, longevity, and continuing contribution, is a physical symbol of my work (as I planted it) and a metaphorical representation of my contribution to a hardworking and struggling family. In the end, it was not really that they wanted to use my labor in exploitative fashion, but rather, that they were so burdened by each day’s struggle to earn a bit of money that my passing was hard to register.

This realization, that Denis and Hind were often uninterested because they were stressed by their work, led me to reflect on the nature of stress and how it changes the way people perceive others. For two weeks, I assumed that Denis and Hind did not care about my agricultural progress because they were uninterested. The truth, however, was that their stress forced me to wrongly perceive their motivations and led me to draw incorrect conclusions about their characters and personalities. Though the realization was a shock, it is actually a process that we all experience most days. Whether frustrated by work, an essay, family responsabilites, or relationships, we often let our own problems change the way we treat others and therefore, the way they perceive us.

Considering the effect that their stress and my blindness had on my experience, I think we can all conclude that it is easy to treat others poorly when we are feeling overwhelmed. Maybe then, what we should attempt instead is to see the situation from the perspective of other’s around us and treat them the way they deserve. If Denis and Hind had seen the situation from my perspective, the entire experience could have been different just as a quick assesment of my friends’ frustration at school would force me to see that my stress was bringing everyone down.

Thus, in retrospect, I think it is unfortunate that the last two weeks progressed poorly, but at the same time, there is no one to blame. I was confounded by my own frustration, they were consumed by their own stress, and no one grew as much as they could have. I hope then, that as I go forward, I can learn to see the effects of stress more clearly, and maybe through my experience, you can do the same. In the end, if everyone thought a little about the effect they have on others, be it stress-related or environmental, we could start to see our own faults and move forward with change.

Though my original plan for the summer was to visit four different organic farms, each for a two week stint, I have decided to return to the Moulin Ruel (home of the Blancarts) for an additional two weeks. The motivation is largely based on the type of work I have been doing for the past two weeks and the possible continuation of that work on the third farm.

Here at the Petit Ane Bleu, a large portion of my time and an even greater portion of the Bigliardi’s time is devoted to the entertainment of customers. Every aspect of the farm is in some way connected to the “client.” Donkeys carry the hiker’s packs; goats, sheep, and pigs create a farm-like atmosphere; vegetables are grown en masse for the hikers’ consumption; and Denis and Hind must constantly cater to the customers’ needs. Unfortunately for me, this means that I often work alone or with the other WWOOFers completing tasks (like raspberry picking, weeding, or repair jobs) that Denis and Hind do not have the time for, even if we do not really know why it must be done. It is an environment that does not really accomplish the spirit of the internship because it is difficult to learn about organic agriculture working alone.

While the system has left me frustrated at times, we must also look at the situation from the Bigliardi’s perspective to understand why it works that way; in short, they are a young couple, with children, who have to pay the bills. Yes, working by myself in a field does not really represent the spirit of exchange at the core of WWOOFing (which, by the way, means World Wide Opportunities on Organic Farms – www.wwoof.org), but it does help them make end’s meet.

Considering that the root of the less-than-ideal situation is the constant need to entertain customers, I have concluded that it is best to avoid any other farms that run a hostel or restaurant type business. Unfortunately, a hostel is exactly what the next farm does. My decision to return to the Blancarts, therefore, is rooted in the desire to avoid more customer service work that shies away from agricultural aspirations. Also, when I left the Blancart’s home, we had not finished the wood harvest or the construction of the goat house. If two more weeks means we could possibly finish one or both, I am more than content to return and lend a helping hand.

Thus, tomorrow I will spend the day returning to the home of Christine and Alain, hoping to both get the internship back on track and to make some progress on their projects. While the past two weeks have been informative, I expect the next two will provide many more lessons on consumerism, do-it-yourself projects, agriculture, and more.

In case you are not aware, today is the Fête Nationale of France. Normally, the day would be spent partying with friends and family, but here are the Petit Ane Bleu, the dominant political stance is incredibly left, and patriotism is not too highly valued. Thus, we are still working and even have clients visiting tonight.

Though we have no plans for today, however, we did take advantage of the firework display last night in the local city called Les Vans. Sitting on the hillside of a veritable mountain, we revelled in the unobstructed view of the town’s firework show and watched explosives of all colors and sizes light the night sky. In a literal sense, I would say that the show itself was just okay compared to some of the more flamboyant displays we have in the US; what was truly astounding, however, was the sense of being a nineteen year old American celebrating the holiday with solely French companions. Yes, the experience does not really relate to agriculture, but it says a lot about the joys of travelling and trying to experience the local culture in a different way than traditional tourism. Learning the language, studying the culture, reading the local paper, and living with a family all go a long way to helping one see the true lifestyle of a another country.

In brief, all is well here at the Petit Ane Bleu, and I will let you know more about what is going on later in the week.

As this internship is largely devoted to re-evaluating the agricultural system in the US, I try from time to time to translate the lessons I learn here in France into ideas we can apply in our own country. The other day, one of those lessons just happened to boil to the surface.

One afternoon last week, Mikhail and I were assigned to pick raspberries that eventually became the jam we sell to customers and local organic stores. As we were making our way down the neat rows, enjoying a pleasant breeze and the powerful Ardèche sun on our backs, we talked a lot about the problems of industrial agriculture and found we have a common interest in the issue. Before I tell you about his idea, however, you must know that Mikhail is simultaneously a great comedian and an intensely reflective thinker. He moves from back and forth between moments of histeria and contemplation with an ease and charm that wins over almost all who listen to his words.

Frustrated by the environmental and societal problems that come from America’s (and increasingly France’s) modernized food supply, Mikhail has concluded that the best solutions is a focus on both localized production and regional specialization. Like many of the writers who have engaged with this issue, his first conclusion is that the sale of vegetables and fruits produced elsewhere is not a sustainable process. Not only does the travel time result in massive fossil fuel consumption, but additionally, the focus of production becomes durable fruits and vegetables that end up looking good but tasting just okay. The result, then, is to produce as much as possible on the local level to increase tastiness and decrease transportation costs.

Though the first idea was not too original, Mikhail’s second conclusion, about regional specialization, was an innovative idea that I have never before heard. While he believes that each region should produce as much as possible, he also understands that local climates do not always allow one to grow every sort of product. In other words, warm weather fruits like figs, oranges, and lemons probably do not grow in Maine’s cooler climate while lobsters do not thrive in Florida. Considering the concession, Mikhail believes that each region should also identify its unique products and maximize their production for sale elsewhere. Yes, the process will result in higher transportation costs, but simultaneously, it allows regions to exchange goods and ideas. Just like it was important for villages in the Middle Ages to exchange people (via marriages) to keep bloodlines diverse, so Mikhail argues the sale of special, regional goods can keep local economies fresh.

To the greatest extent, Mikhail’s idea is quite theoretical (and you might ask how it can be applied), but here in France, regional specialization is already the norm. In the Ardèche, one type of plant that thrives is the chestnut tree. Knowing that it does not grow as well elsewhere, the locals have been harvesting chestnuts for centuries and transforming the good into a peanut butter-type jam that is a favorite all over France. (If you get the chance to taste “La Crème de Marrons,” I strongly encourage you try it.) On a much larger, societal level, we can also see France’s attachment to local specialities in the famous “Appelation d’Origine Controlée” system. Simply put, the system is a patchwork of local organizations that recognize the advantages of their local climate and stringently control how similar products from other regions name their goods. The most obvious example is wine because a Bordeaux or St. André can only come from a very small region in France. The system, however, is applied to everything from cheese to Chestnut Jam. Each good is controlled and similar products are forced to find other names, reducing their selling power. The Crème de Marrons and AOC (Appellation d’Origine Controlée), therefore, are both great examples of how localized specialization can create better products, keep production local, and earn a region a bit of money.

Realizing that our food production system in the United States creates mostly homogenized products (think Corn Flakes), maybe one lesson that we can take away from the Petit Ane Bleu and France in general is that valuing our local specialities is one way to revamp local consumption. Whether it means waiting for New Jersey blueberries to come into season, tasting that first Rhode Island fluke, or eating a real Philadelphia cheesesteak (not sure if that one works), focusing on the specialities of the region might put better food on your table and help those small, struggling farmers stay in business when Shoprite is just down the road…

Since it has been a few days since I posted anything, here is a quick update of what has happened recently:

Last night was the first client-free night we had since last weekend, so to celebrate, I cooked dinner for everyone. Having been asked to prepare a speciality of my home region, I had a lot of trouble coming up with a famous, New Jersey treat and decided to go with the fail-safe American Breakfast-For-Dinner. The three specialities that came to mind were hash browns (made with potatoes I harvested earlier in the week), blueberry pancakes with real Vermont Maple Syrup (a gift I brought from home), and a family speciality called “toad-in-holes.” Essentially, it a piece of bread, buttered on each side, with a circular hole taken out of the middle. The bread is then put in a frying pan and an egg is cracked into the hole, resulting in a combination of fried bread and egg deliciously united.

This morning we had a little bit of free time so I decided to descend into Les Vans to see the local farmer’s market. Coming out of the mountains, we got a great view of the city nestled in a valley and surrounded by mountains. (If you have a chance, I suggest you google image search the city to get a taste of what I saw.)

Now, if you are imagining a little farmer’s market with maybe twenty vendors, you need to think much, much bigger. Covering maybe eight streets and curving through the Medieval town, the market had everything you could imagine. Vendors were selling artisinal cheeses, breads, and beers in addition to clothes, jewelry, homeopathic medicines, and more. At the same time, the streets were crowded with a combination of tourist searching truly local specialities, locals buying their weekly supply of goods, and one random American boy astounded by the selection of goods.

After wandering for forty-five minutes, I rejoined Mikhail and Lea at an Indian tea salon for a leisurely beverage and a conversation about French society, agricultural trends, family histories, and more. I was a bit sad to hear from Lea (an ecologist currently studying agricultural regulation in an internship) that the gross trend is towards the industrialization of the food supply in France. Much like the American history, the French began subsidizing the modernization of the agriculture following the Second World War and the hunger that many of its citizens knew during the conflict. Unfortunately, this means that supermarkets are becoming the norm, local producers are giving way to agribusiness, and the consumer is mostly naive about the whole process.

Fortunately, the way of life here at the Petit Ane Bleu and our own purchases at the market represent the beginning of a counter-culture. Like the growing popularity of local cuisine and farmer’s markets in the US, maybe buying a Pain au Chocolat from a local, organic producer helps fight the industrial norm. Only time will tell, but one thing I am sure of is this: chocolate croissants taste a lot better made locally than bought in a big supermarket. If that is not motivation enough, I do not know what is.

In a recent comment, my father asked me to go into a bit more depth about my personal experiences with the animals we raise. Considering I grew up in a household with just one dog, I am amazed by how little time it has taken to habituate, but before we get into that subject, let me first tell you about the animal’s roles.

At the Moulin Ruel, the animals served three different purposes: land maintenance, protein generation, and energy alternatives. In the simplest way, the goats, donkeys, and horses of the farm maintain the health of the fields by eating the plants that grow naturally. The process both feeds the animals and prevents Alain from using a fossil fuel powered tractor. Though the chickens also contribute to this process in a small way by eating troublesome insects and kitchen scraps, their primary purpose is provide eggs and meat (sparingly!) for consumption. Finally, the horses represent an alternative energy source for heavy labor projects by hauling lumber or plowing garden rows in the place of the tractor. In general, the animals are respected inhabitants of the land, and their natural skills are put to use to improve the health of the farm.

Conversely, the animals here at the Petit Ane Bleu serve a much more touristic role. To the greatest extent, the donkeys from the basis of the hiking business by carrying fifty kilograms worth of a client’s goods during a “randonée.” The other animals, however, have two distinctly different purposes. First, the sheep, goats, and pigs are quite like the donkeys when their existence enhances the “country experience” of the tourists that visit. Penned next to the guests’ lodgings, they are a physical symbol of farm life and enhance the asthetics of the place. The second role, which is different from the donkeys, is that these animals are occasionally slaughtered for their meat which adorns the host’s table. In fact, one of the pigs is scheduled to be killed while I am here, and the experience represents a sight I both dread and feel obligated to see. Thus, the animals are exploited to a much greater extent here at the Petit Ane Bleu.

Comparing the two farms, I believe that the Moulin Ruel ideology of animal husbandry is much fairer and more sustainable. Each animal is considered an integral part of the farm and their natural abilities (and joys) are applied to the maintenance of the farm. That said, the comparison is not necessarily just because they are farms of different sizes, purposes, and the Bigliardis do not have a retirement pension paying for their weekly needs.

On a lighter and more personal note, I am happy to say that I have slipped into the animal-handler role quite well. I quite enjoy climbing into the hills to retrieve donkeys, giving grain to a surging crowd of hungry goats, getting shocked by an electric fence (just once!), cleaning a donkey’s hooves, and my favorite, helping a baby goat drink an unwilling mother’s milk. Though it is a far-cry from my traditional place in Haverford’s Magill Library, I find with each passing day that the simple joys of a country lifestyle are for me.

Now that I have finally settled down at the Petit Ane Bleu, I think it is time for a comparitive look at the two locations I have visited thus far. Let’s begin with the Moulin Ruel.

If you have not been following the blog for a long period of time, the Moulin Ruel is the name of the first farm I visited this summer. In retrospect, the best way to describe it would be a small, hobby farm owned by an older couple. With the money earned from a retirement pension and a part-time job, Christine and Alain Blancart raise a small number of animals and grow an equally small garden. THe goal of the overall operation is a movement towards economic self-sufficiency. By growing vegetables, making cheese and jam, repairing old cars, and building their own animal lodgings, the couple avoids excessive consumption and reduces their overall ecological impact.

In comparison, the Petit Ane Bleu is a much larger farm coupled with a tourism business that allows Denis and Hind Bigliardi (a much younger couple with children) to live. Originally, the farm was an organic fruit and vegetable producer, but when a few difficult years ruined their crops and finances, the couple decided to focus on a donkey-guided hiking company that earns enough money to keep the farm going. Today, the produce grown is devoted to personal consumption, feeding clients, selling homemade jam, and maintaining the animals. Thus, the farm does represent a functional organic farm even if the funding comes from the side business.

One other crucial distinction is that the Petit Ane Bleu is part of a “table d’hôte” or “host’s table” organization which brings customers to the farm to share homecooked meals, to exchange conversation, and to learn about organic farms. Often, a hike includes several days of travel with a stop at a different “host’s table” each night. In this sense, the Petit Ane Bleu may have a larger societal impact because it reaches out to a naive clientele and show them the joys, tastes, and difficulties of the profession.

Considering the tourist-driven aspect of this farm, I must admit that I was quite upset when I first discovered the client-focused goal of the farm. Fortunately, I am beginning to realize that the lesson this farm (and Alain Blancart’s pension) embody is that organic farming is quite expensive and requires a lot of work. For it to succeed, the consumers themselves must be willing to accept a high price to help small farmers compete against massive agribusiness firms. Thus, for us, it means we need to devote a bigger portion of our income to our food budget, a trend that many healthier societies show. With luck, the joy of tasting a true vine-ripened tomatoe or a cut of meat from a grass-fed cow will be enough to persuade some, but a larger movement needs to occur and that requires a bit more reflection on my part. To begin, however, this summer while you have the chance, try to taste a true, locally and organically produced food and let me know what you think.

Now that the weekend has passed, and I have successfully settled into the life here at the second farm, I want to give you a better explanation of my hosts, the farm, and the other workers.

To begin, the farm is located in the Ardèche region of France, which is maybe 200 km west of my previous location. It is both incredibly hot and mountainous (think a cross between Vermont’s rolling hills and the American Southwest). The farm itself is located on the top of a veritable mountain with curving cutbacks leading to its entrance. As the climate is so hot and the terrain so rugged, the majority of land is devoted to animal grazing. Here they have nineteen donkeys, many sheep and goats, three pigs, chickens everywhere, and the invevitable cat/dog combo.

In terms of my hosts, I have once again had the incredible chance of falling in with a nice group of people. Doni and Inde Bigliardi are the owners and have been farming here for over ten years. They are a relatively young couple, with several children ranging from two to fifteen. Each is a comedian and very kind. In addition, there are several other workers (actual workers, not volunteers like me) who are spending the summer. Mikhail studied forest management and constantly ready to drop a joke at my expense. Lea is an ecology major working an internship in a local city throughout the week and a resident of the farm on the weekends. There are also several others, but I do not yet know there names.

Now, what does the farm do? In actuality, the Petite Ane Bleu is just as much a tourist destination as a organic farm. Though Doni and Inde produced organic vegetables and fruits for sale for many years, they fell upon hard times and have decided to apply a portion of their time to organizing donkey-led nature hikes (hence the Little Blue Donkey title). Visitors from all over France and Europe come here to rent a donkey, walk through nature, learn about organic produce, share experiences, and eat organically produced food. Additionally, as we all eat meals together (hosts, visitors, workers), it is a really good way to introduce people to the WWOOF program and organic farming. Meals are the focal point of exchange and let us introduce people to another way of life, while learning about their own.

Specifically, this morning’s work represents a pretty typical day: we woke early to eat breakfast and prepare a breakfast/picnic for the guests. When I was done eating, I left to feed the goats, sheep and pigs, which are enclosed near to the farm. After, we retrieved, groomed, and prepared the donkeys for the hike. When the guests were successfully sent off, we spent time harvesting raspberries that will eventually become jam that is sold to the visitors. In short, it is a combination of playing host and being a farmer, but I am already starting to see some lessons boiling to the surface.

Right now, I am off for the mandatory afternoon siesta to avoid the extreme heat. Keep your eyes peeled for a more analytical and comparitive post to come.